Envy
by Fractured Thoroughly
Summary: There were empty spaces in her memory, spaces too large and hazy to be considered normal. It was strange she'd never noticed the gaps before Noah Bennett had so chillingly pointed them out. She did, however, remember the day her father brought her....


There were empty spaces in her memory, spaces too large and hazy to be considered normal. It was strange she'd never noticed the gaps before Noah Bennet had so chillingly pointed them out. She did, however, remember the day her father brought her to the company for the first time. Her shiny Mary-Jane▓s had scuffed the floor as she waited in an empty hallway for her father. The fabric of the chairs had been distinctly itchy and unwelcoming. Maybe she had noticed just how uncomfortable it was because she was already longing to leave. She wanted to go home, but she knew without voicing the question that she would not be going home any time soon. The neatly packed pink suitcase beside her filled with clothing and a few favored toys had only ever been used for trips to her grandmother's house. Of course, her grandmother no longer lived in the rambling farm house; mostly because Elle had turned the tidy home into a pile of smoldering embers.

The memory of her introduction to the company ended there. The pixie-like blonde's mind skipped ahead seamlessly to sessions where she practiced her ability. Elle could remember vigorous tests and exhausting procedures, but the bits of near torture Mr. Bennet had described were noticeably absent. She wondered, bitterly, if her father had deliberately requested the Haitian leave the sessions where he expressed his disappointment with her performance. The speech about every person being a special snowflake had been delivered to Elle with the adamant notation that she was a particularly special bit of frozen water and she had certain responsibilities.

With great power comes great responsibility, Elle mused as she traced a finger along a dust-free windowsill. She might not have caught the Spiderman Trilogy as they came out, but the company had a sufficient satellite system. Most of what she knew about interacting with people came from watching a television. Sometimes she saw the effects of her isolation, in the awkward silences after she'd said something inappropriate, or in the sympathetic hesitation of someone who found out she'd practically grown up as a member of the company. Of course, as a child she had not been the only notable subject in the suffocating and restrictive space of the company's four walls, but there hadn't precisely been social gatherings. Her education had been focused on honing her abilities, not prepping for homecoming dances or the prom. It was one of the many differences she could list off between herself and Claire Bennet.

A surge of anger raced through Elle and the lights overhead flickered. Why had Claire received the sheltered, pleasant life of Odessa Texas while Elle had been trained to be an agent of the company when the charm of finger-paint and dolls had yet to wear off. It wasn't fair. She could think of a thousand reasons why her childhood deserved to be reversed with the lithe cheerleader. She hadn't earned the bright, sunny existence her father had given her. Claire had risked exposure too many times to count and Elle had spent her adolescence preserving their secrecy. Jealousy coiled in the little blonde's stomach and it wasn't really over pep rallies or cheerleading uniforms. Claire's father had preserved her innocence at all costs and Elle's had sold hers from the moment he'd walked her hand in hand through the doors of the paper mill.

There were no windows this deep inside the company. Elle had once counted the days she'd gone without a glimpse of the world beyond the neatly structured one her father had placed her. She had lost track after fifty. It wasn't like she could carve lines into the walls of her room to keep track. Her room wasn't nearly as barren as some of the others, but she didn't take the light pink paint or the frilly comforter on her bed as indications that she was any less of a prisoner. She knew they were simply signs she had been there longer than the rest of the imprisoned.

Elle glanced at her watch, knowing without looking she was running late. 


End file.
